


The Right Reason

by Titti



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-22
Updated: 2005-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 21:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chase and House have to deal with House's withdrawal symptoms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Reason

**Author's Note:**

> Set during and after "Detox"

Robert used his key to enter the house. He didn't even have to guess where Greg was, instead he went straight to the living room. Greg was sitting in the armchair, eyes closed, a glass in his hand, listening to Dizzy's trumpet coming out from the Bose speakers, but the pain was clear in Greg's face.

Robert put down his backpack near the chair, and sat on the armrest. "Hey, how are you?"

Greg opened his eyes slowly and focused on Robert. "Let me see. I haven't taken any Vicodin in almost 36 hours, I've worked all day through the pain, Wilson had the brilliant idea of having that…that masseuse destroy my back. How the hell do you think I am?"

"You're your charming self, and you didn't seem to mind the masseuse before. For a moment, I was jealous there." Robert ignored the glare Greg was giving him. "Did you take some naproxen?"

Greg blinked. "Aleve? You want me to take Aleve?"

Robert shrugged. "It's better than nothing, and better than whatever you're drinking."

"I told Cuddy no meds," Greg said, closing his eyes again.

"I'm sure she didn't mean that you can't take OTCs, and changing Cognac for Vicodin isn't really what she had in mind. Pretty certain of that."

Greg half smiled, before opening his eyes again. "How did the surgery go?"

Robert grinned. "Keith is fine. He can see again."

"Impressive, Dr. Chase."

"Yeah, it took me a whole five hours to come up with that." Robert rolled his eyes. "Really, I can be such an incompetent doctor at times."

"Sarcasm, now that's really impressive." Greg reached up, and rested his hand on the back of Robert's neck. "You did good today, you looked at the fact, came up with a solution, and you weren't distracted by…other things."

"Unlike everyone else. I don't like this, Greg. Everyone is focusing on you being off the meds. You're focusing on not focusing on the pain. The patient is almost secondary." He shook his head. "This is really stupid."

"Are you calling me stupid?" Greg asked, his eyes widening in shock.

"Please, don't even try sounding surprised. You do know it's stupid, and Cuddy should know it, too. Even if it weren't the worse idea I've heard since coming to the hospital, it should not be public knowledge. I'll spend more time convincing those two that you aren't out of your mind than doing my job, not that I don't spend enough time doing that under normal conditions."

"That's not your job. If they have a problem, they can leave, for all I care." Greg reached for the cane, and tried to get up. He pushed away Robert's hand. "I can still walk."

"Right." Robert didn't move away. "Only you can't do it without dying from the pain."

Greg snickered, but did take the offered hand this time. "Were you always this sarcastic or is it my influence?"

"Of course, I was. I still think that my dry wit attracted you more than my arse."

Greg wiggled his eyebrows. "And what a nice… humor you have."

Robert laughed. "Bastard. You're a real bastard, you know that? But I'll ignore the git that you were today, and give you a massage that will make you fall asleep."

"Yeah? Is that what they call handjobs in Australia?" Greg began to walk, with Robert next to him. "Robert?" he added, his tone suddenly serious.

"Yes?"

"I should take that Aleve." He grabbed Robert's wrist before his lover had a chance to go. "And thank you."

"Go to bed. I'll be there in a moment." Robert walked to the bathroom, and found the Aleve. He probably should buy more, because he might need it more than Greg if they were to make it through the week without killing each other.

* * *

Greg was still looking at the pills that Foreman had given him. This was the perfect moment. No one would know, and they would finally take away the constant pain, the pressure in his back, the ache in his hand. One little white pill and everything would go away.

"That's mighty stupid, even for you," Robert said as he closed the door to Greg's office. Not for the first time, he cursed the glass walls and doors that surrounded them.

Greg looked up. "What is stupid?"

"I don't know. Telling that man that his son was dying, breaking your hand, letting Foreman push you into taking the Vicodin." Robert collected the pills as he spoke, and put them in the bottle.

"Hey," Greg said, looking affronted. "What are you doing?"

"Are you going to take them?" Robert said, the challenge clear.

There was a pause, and then Greg shook his head. "You know I'm not."

"Good, then. I'll just keep them, for safe keeping, of course." Robert looked up from under his eyelashes. "How's your hand?"

"Good. It hurts almost as much as my back," Greg answered flippantly.

"Glad to hear that." Robert looked at Greg and smiled. "I have to go. Cameron is waiting for me to talk to the father. For what it's worth, I agree with you. It's not Lupus, but we've got nothing else at the moment."

"We can kill him if we treat him for Lupus," Greg answered.

"We will kill him if we don't treat him," Robert pointed out.

"So, it's better to kill him by treating him than trying to find a cure for what he really has." Greg nodded. "Really brilliant! And you people worry that I'm losing my mind..." He snorted.

"You can't save them all, and treating them can help the relatives cope with the death of their loved ones."

Greg rolled his eyes. "This isn't church, Robert. We aren't in the business of helping relatives. We save patients, if the relatives have problems they can go see a shrink."

Robert ground his teeth. Of course, Greg would dismiss what he said. He never stopped until the patients were dead, ignoring the families, but the Church reference... that was personal, that was a hit and a score. "I must go." Robert gripped the bottle of Vicodin now safely in his pocket. It's the pain, he repeated to himself, not for the first time, and as sure as hell it wouldn't be for the last.

* * *

Robert dropped the black plastic bag on Greg's desk. "Here is Jewel. We're lucky that's been so cold. The body has been perfectly maintained. Of course, the ground was frozen solid, and Foreman spent his time bitching."

"So unlike what you're doing at this very moment," Greg remarked.

"I waited until I got the job done before complaining, and by the way, you owe me a new pair of shoes. These were Ferragamos, and now they are headed for the garbage." Robert shook his head. "I can't believe I dug up a corpse."

"At least it's a cat." Greg grinned, before grabbing his cane. His hand shook for a moment, and he took a deep breath before gripping it, and standing up. "Help me bring it into a room. I'm going to do the autopsy."

Robert groaned. "I should have known. Find the cat and we can go home, you said. Just this, and then we can warm up under the cover, you said. Why do I ever believe you?"

"Because you love me?" he asked with humor.

"Because I'm insane. I should have gone back home the moment I met you." With a sigh, he picked up the bag again. "Will you be able to do this?" He looked at Greg's hands. "If you need help..."

"You don't think I can do my job?" Greg asked angrily. "Well, I can do it, just like I can do everything else without you around. Just for your information, I've survived without you in my life."

"I'm offering my help," Robert hissed back. "Greg, there is a limit to what I'll put up with, pain or no pain. Now, you want my help, fine. You don't, I'll go home and get some sleep."

Greg grabbed the bag with his free hand. "Go home, Chase. I don't want to ruin your beauty sleep."

"Sod off." Without looking back, Robert walked to the elevators, and headed to his apartment.

~*~*~*~

This was becoming an unnerving habit, Robert thought as he walked into Greg's office late at night. "You were right; it is naphthalene toxicity. There were termites inside the wall."

Greg nodded. "A few more days, some decent food, and the kid will be as good as new."

"Keith and his father are very grateful, and I assume the guy who got the liver is just as happy." Robert stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot. They hadn't talked since the night before, unless they considered the confrontation in the hall a conversation. "Damn, Greg, say something... at least look at me."

Greg put down his portable TV and stared at his lover. "Next time you give an order to my doctors against my orders, I will fire you, understood?"

Robert sighed. "I thought the transplant would save his life."

"And I told you that it wasn't lupus. Did you really think that I would stop the surgery to feel better? Did you think that the pain in my back made me want to lose the opportunity to give a liver to a person who might be dying?" Greg glared at Robert. "Please tell me what the hell were you thinking? Because I could expect that idiocy from Foreman and Cameron, not that they have the balls to order a surgery, but you...You should know me better."

"I..." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, all right. I saw that kid bleed, we weren't doing anything... I didn't think that the Vicodin had anything to do with this, but you will go to great lengths to prove a point, and..." Greg continued to glare at him, in complete silence. "And I screwed up, okay? I'm sorry, and it won't happen again."

"You make sure that it doesn't." Greg stood up, moaning as sharp stabs of pain travelled through him. "I took a cab this morning."

Robert frowned. Their disagreements were never solved that quickly. They would talk and banter, sarcasm used like sharp epees, wit and irony serving as swords and shield depending on the need. True, this was professional as much as personal, but Robert had the feeling that it had more to do with the pain and the withdrawal than anything else. "I'll give you a ride."

"You can stay over if you want to," Greg remarked as he put his hat on.

"I want to." Robert moved next to Greg, their hands brushing for an instant. "Are you okay?"

"No, not really." He took a deep breath. "I feel like I was run over by a Mack truck."

"Let's go home, and we'll see if we can make you feel better."

"I see. If I die of pain, I can honestly say that sex is what the doctor ordered," Greg said seriously, before breaking into a smile.

Robert laughed. "I was thinking more in terms of warm milk and an Aleve."

"Party pooper." As he walked, Greg rested his hand on Robert's ass for a second, and winked at his lover. "Sex is more fun."

"Yeah? I'll race you to the car. Who wins tops," Robert joked.

"I can always trip you," he said, hitting the floor with his cane. "Then we'll see who's in pain."

Robert laughed again. "God, you're insane."

"Part of my charm, and you aren't much better."

Robert silently agreed, because nothing else explained why they were together.

* * *

Robert was waiting downstairs for Greg. Everything was quiet, in the way that hospitals get right before nighttime fills the emergency rooms. He sat on the side, ignoring the doctors that left for the night, and doing his best to hide from Wilson. He didn't want to start a discussion about his lover with Wilson, even more he didn't want Wilson to see them leave together.

Cuddy came out of the clinic. Robert ignored her too until he heard Greg's name, and then he paid attention, about the pills, the addiction, the pain, and finally the fact that it was Wilson's idea. He watched them go, knowing that sooner or later he would tell Greg about this, but first he wanted to go home.

He waited some more, but Greg didn't come downstairs. Robert decided to see what was holding his lover up. He found Greg in his office, music enveloping the room like cool ice, while the expression on Greg's face told him enough.

"You're flying," Robert muttered, as he turned off the music.

"Hey, why did you do that?"

"Because I've been waiting for you downstairs so we can go home." Robert shook his head. "You couldn't wait, could you?" He thought it over. He had two choices: go home by himself or hope that most people had left for the night as he dragged Greg home. God, he really didn't want to go home alone, but the other choice...They could say goodbye to secrecy, and it wouldn't do Greg's reputation any good to be seen drugged up, especially if Greg decided to make a scene. "All right, I'm going, but promise me to get a cab." Right, he would tell the guard at the front desk, just to make sure, blame it on Greg's eccentricity.

Greg rested his hand on Robert's inner thigh moving up, until it was almost on Robert's crotch. "I don't want you to go."

Robert gasped. " Greg, please... remember the bloody glass that you insisted on leaving with no blinds on."

"I wasn't screwing you back then," Greg pointed out.

Robert raised an eyebrow at the matter of fact tone. "You are faking it, you, bastard."

"You like that word, don't you?" Greg grinned, but then rubbed his face with his hands. "I'm a little high, and pain-free. God, it feels so good. Give me a moment, and we go, okay?"

"Just a moment, because I have plans for tonight. Plans that include me, you, naked, and lots of shagging." Robert brushed his fingers over Greg's hair. God, the man had to be high, regardless of what he said, because there was no way the gesture would have gone unremarked otherwise.

"Shagging sounds so polite, as opposed to fucking." Greg used the cane as leverage, and stood up. "All right, shagging it is. I feel so good I could run," he said as a non sequitor.

Yes, of course, not high at all. Robert sighed, but walked downstairs, and drove them to Greg's place. His eyes were on the road, but his mind went over the past week. Now that it was over, he was... he was angry. Angry that Wilson and Cuddy could do such a stupid thing, angry at his lover for agreeing to the insanity simply to avoid a month of clinic work, angry that he had to put up with the mood changes, and the worrying, and the coldness.

Of course, if he said any of that, Greg would laugh it off, saying that his actions hadn't been much different than usual, but they had. This had been more than the usual 'I'm always right' arrogance when dealing with patients. This had been personal, with dirty shots, aimed where it really hurt, using knowledge that only lovers would have.

He gripped the wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white, but luckily they arrived to the house before Robert could say something that would ruin the night. Instead, he parked in the driveway, and got out of the car without speaking.

"Are you okay?" Greg asked as he opened the front door. "You haven't said a word on the way over."

"I'm fine. Just tired, I guess." He walked in, behind his lover. He made sure to close the door. Before he could go anywhere, he felt Greg's body pressed against his, and he rested his forehead against the door.

"Tell me what's wrong?" Greg whispered in his ear. "You know I'll find out whether you want or not."

"There is nothing...let's go to bed." Robert span around, and stared at his lover. "Greg, I'm not in the mood for your games, tonight. I'm not playing 20 questions, I'm not answering your inquiries, I'm not satisfying whatever need you have to play detective. You want to shag, fine. You want to interrogate me, I'm going home."

Greg framed Robert's face, leaning against the young man to relieve the pressure on his leg. "This isn't an interrogation. I want to make sure you're okay."

"I've watched you go through hell for a week, and tell me...no, bark at me that you were fine, if memory serves me right. I'm better than that, and I shan't lie to you. I'm not fine, but what I need right now is simply you, no discussions, no sermons, no teachings, just you. Okay?"

"Race you to the bedroom?" Greg said with a pale smile.

Robert knew that it was as good an answer as he was going to get, and nodded. "Will you stop asking questions if I win?" As if that would ever happen. He had learned to deal with the strangest comments during sex from questions about patients to articles in the New England Medical Journal.

Greg snorted. "You know better than that."

"I do know better, but it was still worth a try."

"Nonsense, it's just a waste of time if you know the result." Robert rolled his eyes. Of course, here came the lecture, but surprisingly, Greg smirked. "Besides, I know I'll get my answers once you come."

"Then, why are we wasting time? I get what I want, you get what you want. It's the perfect solution," Robert answered with a grin.

"I'd say more that it's more like...an agreeable compromise." But as he spoke he regained his balance, and walked to the bedroom. He sat on the bed. He took his jacket off, and tossed it onto the chair. He started unbuttoning his shirt, when Robert kneeled in front of him. "What are you doing?"

"Greg, I swear, if you tell me that you don't want my help, I shall hit you with your cane."

"Kinky, and also so romantic," Greg said with sarcasm.

"When the hell have you been interested in romantic? Our first time was inside a closet at the hospital." Robert stood up after having taken off Greg's shoes and socks. "Now, get those pants off."

"You're getting bossy." But he took his pants off, before pushing the sheets down, and lying down, hand behind his head, watching Robert's every move.

At the beginning, Robert had been so insecure, probably more a consequence of their work relationship than a reflection of Robert's personality. For someone who had been studying to become a Catholic priest, Robert enjoyed showing off his naked body way too much.

"Like the view?" Robert tossed the lube on the mattress before crawling over Greg's body.

"You're not wasting time."

"Not if I can help it."

And God bless Vicodin, because Greg rolled them around without screaming in pain. He laid partially on Robert, his hand sliding over his lover's body, slow caresses as their eyes remained locked, and just like that, the mood shifted. "I'm sorry."

"Shh, I don't need apologies," Robert whispered, his voice turning into a moan as Greg drew a line down his body, teasingly close to his cock. He arched his back to meet the touch. "God, yes, that's what I need."

Greg looked on, drinking in Robert's reactions as he continued to touch in an unhurried exploration. "Show me what you need." The soft words caressed Robert's skin before his lips brushed against Robert's jaw.

Blue eyes looked at him for an instant before fingers buried into his hair, and pulled them close. Greg tasted the need for contact and reassurance in the kiss. Some other time, he would have joked about it, teased Robert, but even in his drugged pain free state, he knew that it would be more than his young lover could handle.

"Robert..." he said into the kiss, and a moan was the only answer he got. "I need you to go on your side." He kissed the question he knew was coming away, and then grinned. "I want to make up for lost time, and if I put strain on my back, I'll be in pain or drugged up."

"Just how much making up do you plan to do?" Robert asked, grinning, but he turned to his side.

"You don't plan to sleep, do you?" Greg placed a kiss on his shoulder, while reaching for the lube. Later, he would take his time, teasing Robert, driving him mad, making him beg in a way that filled his soul and ego like nothing else could, but now, there would be none of that. This was for Robert, a sort of silent apology for being even more of a bastard than he usually was.

"If you say you're sorry again, I'll hit you, but keep..." Robert purred as he pressed back on Greg's fingers. "Keep doing that and you're forgiven."

Greg smiled a real smile, one that most people never saw, one that technically Robert wasn't seeing either, but he had to admit that Robert was getting extremely good at reading him. "I'll let my dick apologies."

"Seem... appropriate since you're...oh god, right there... since you're a prick."

Greg pulled his fingers out and smacked Robert's ass. "You watch that pretty mouth of yours, or no 'shagging'."

Robert laughed. "That would work if I didn't know you were a horny bastard."

"You know me too well." Was that affection in his voice? Right, the Vicodin, he could always blame the drugs, but then Robert turned his head with the biggest smile he'd seen over the past week and said, "I do." Greg smiled back. "Guess what am I going to do now?"

"If you're smart, you'll finally fuck me."

"Your wish is.... well, nothing more than a suggestion, really," he said with a grin. However, he poured more lube on his hand, spreading it over his erection with long strokes. Robert's eyes never moved from his face, desire written over the young man's face.

No more waiting, for either of them. He parted Robert's cheeks, and his cock glided in, a slow caress, until he could go no further. He wrapped an arm around Robert, pulling him closer, before his fingers curled around Robert's erection.

"Nice and slow, Robert," he whispered in Robert's ear, relishing the moan he got in reply.

Robert reached back, his hand resting on Greg's thigh as they moved slowly. "I missed you."

Greg closed his eyes, his heart clenching at the pain he heard in those simple words. The apology died before he could let it out, knowing that it would do no good at this point. Instead, he simply said, "I know."

He wished he could say more, but he used words as weapons, so Greg decided that it was time to shut up, and show what he felt. His lips moved across Robert's back, soft kisses that tantalized the nerves, while he stroked his lover. In the silent room, he could hear each noise, studying it, analysing it: increase heart rate, difficulty in breathing, incoherence. Oh yes, Robert was displaying all the symptoms, and the diagnosis was a foregone conclusion.

Robert turned his head and looked at Greg. "Thinking again."

"Talking again." Greg nipped Robert's lip, tugging on it, licking it, almost playful.

"God, stop...stop playing... I need to come..."

On a different day, he'd have pointed out that no one needed to come, there were no deaths as a result of orgasm denial. On a different day, he might not need to give this to his lover. Today, he pushed Robert until he was almost on his stomach, and his rhythm increased, his weigh supported on his good leg, and his arm.

He watched as Robert's hand replaced his, and Robert began to stroke himself, his cock disappearing into his fist faster and faster, just as he thrust back against Greg's erection. Robert closed his eyes, he licked his lips as if he could taste his release, all signs that he was close, signs that Greg had never learned with previous lovers.

"Let go, Robert. Come for me." The words were barely out of his mouth, before Robert cried out, body tensing and relaxing as he went over the edge. It was too good for words, hot and tight, pushing toward sensations that had been missing for too long, until he was flying on more than the Vicodin. Greg collapsed above his lover, caressing Robert's arm as he regained his breath.

"Are you all right?" Robert asked, and even the post coital state couldn't hide the concern.

"My back is fine, yours might have problems if I don't move."

Robert snorted. "You can stay for a few moments."

"I'd rather look at you than your hair." Greg rolled to his back, and extended a hand over the pillow, so that Robert could move closer. "What about you? Are you okay?"

He found Greg's hand and laced their fingers together. "I'm better. Still angry, if that's what you're asking, but I'll get over it."

"I did what I had to."

"What utter crap." Robert sat up, glaring at his lover. "One, your timing stinks. A few moments of peace would have been nice. Two, you didn't have to go cold turkey. It was an inane decision, and you know it. In fact, Wilson should have known, too, and I can't tell you just how much I'd like to strangle him."

"Wilson?" Greg frowned. "What does he have to do with this? Besides having been an annoying shadow for a week."

"Your dear friend-"

"Jealous, aren't we?" Greg teased, but Robert only rolled his eyes. "I would be jealous if he didn't chase every woman in the sodding hospital. No, I'm angry because it was his idea, and because Cuddy went along with him. All three of you should have known how incredibly irresponsible it was. You take what? 60-70 mg of Vicodin."

"How about 100? They think 80, though."

Robert sighed. "100 mg. That's..." He shook his head, trying to focus on the problem and not getting angry again. "Look, I know you're in pain, and I agree that you should take the Vicodin, but if a patient came to you, with your symptoms, what would you consider reasonable?"

"30 to 40 mg. depending on the pain," Greg answered, without thinking. Of course, knowing the right answer and doing the right thing weren't exactly synonyms.

"Which is also the dosage recommended by the AMA. You're taking triple that, Greg. You don't need me to tell you that you must cut down. Slowly, not that...that game you played for a week." Robert slid down, and lay next to his lover. "I can help you. It doesn't have to be so terrible, y'know. I'll cover for you, do the clinic hours, whatever you need"

Greg tilted his head, resting it against Robert's. "Is it that important to you?"

"That you stop being an addict, that your organs don't shut down because of the Vicodin...I don't know, Greg, what do you think?" He drew back, so he could look at Greg. "I care about you."

"Maybe there were other ways..."

"Maybe?" Robert said with a smile.

"Fine, there are other ways...Okay, so what does the doctor suggest?"

"You start with 80 mg this week, decrease by 10 mg. per week until you get to about 40 mg. and I'll hold your pills. You'll need to think about it instead of popping them when you want to kill someone."

"How do you know I take them in lieu of murder?" Greg asked serious, but then smiled. "I can't believe I'm considering this."

"I can't believe you wouldn't. It's too dangerous not to."

"It's going to be hell."

Robert shrugged. "It's all right; I'm used to you being impossible. The other two...Cameron will imagine some tragic event that has fallen upon you, and Foreman will... he'll say how much he hates you before acting like you."

Greg laughed. "They'll skin you alive when they find out about us."

"Oh, please, they are too afraid of you to do anything."

"So... how are you feeling now?"

Robert smiled. "Better."

"Better," Greg repeated, imitating the Australian accent. " Can we nap, now?"

"Nap?" Robert asked with a frown.

"You don't think I'm done with you just yet."

Robert laughed. "All right, nap it is... after a shower."

"If we must." But Greg got up, knowing that as much as he wanted, the pain would come when the effect of the Vicodin would end, and then moving would not be so alluring without the pills, pills that he wouldn't take so easily. This time, he had a much more important reason than free clinic time to keep his promise. "You'll keep the pills on your side?" The smile he got in response was all the reason he needed.


End file.
